Presented by the United States Air Forces in Europe.
I am the Whistler and I know many things, for I walk by night.
I know many strange tales hidden in the hearts of men and women who have stepped into the
shadows.
Here, I know the nameless terrors of which they dare not speak.
Tonight, Franz Frod, it's the Whistler's strange story, Backfire.
Just a moment before, the music of the Little Tango Orchestra had seen pure magic to it
as they sat at their special table in the soft enchanting gloom of the club Madrid.
Now it was discordant and the thing that had transformed magic into misery in a split second
was what Amy had said, tossed across the table to him as if it had been a comment on the
weather.
I'm sorry Carl, I don't love you.
I never did.
Amy, what are you...
Really darling, it isn't anything to look so serious about.
You must have known we couldn't go on like this forever.
Amy, Amy look, we just can't throw it all away.
You've got to understand...
We can't throw it away.
Carl, you're being awfully naive, don't you think?
Amy, I love you.
Is that naive?
That's stupid.
Why does that make very good sense to you?
We've had three months, three wonderful, exciting months.
Arnold's coming home tomorrow and that's that.
When did you find out?
He walked in San Francisco this morning.
Aren't you ever worried about him?
Why, we've been discreet enough.
It's a little strange, a man can be so brilliant and so blind all at once.
You almost look as if you delight in telling Arnold.
No, I'm afraid I couldn't afford to.
Naturally.
I think Arnold might resent it a little if he knew his wife had become romantically interested
in her chauffeur.
Well, that puts me in my place quite nicely.
It was meant to.
Now suppose you run out and get the car.
I want to talk to the orchestra leader for a moment.
Well, what are you waiting for?
Of course, Mrs. Pearson.
Right away.
Of course, Mrs. Pearson.
Right away.
You're back in your place now, aren't you, Carl?
Just as it was when you first came to the Pearson house over a year ago,
long before the thrilling, unbelievable discovery that Amy was interested in you.
As you walked dumbly out of the nightclub, your mind goes back to the day Arnold Pearson hired you.
Well, Carl, I have an idea you'll work out quite nicely.
Well, for some time now I thought we should have a chauffeur.
Mrs. Pearson becomes upset very easily, emotionally rather unstable.
And when she's troubled, she has a strange habit of taking the car out and driving like the wind.
A lot of people do the same thing when they're working out.
I suppose they do.
Anyway, it seems to cool Mrs. Pearson down, quiet her nerves.
I hope that with you here, chauffeur, you'll have to find some less dangerous antidote for these explosions of hers.
I know I can help.
Good.
Well, then it settles, Carl.
I'm going to hire you.
And as far as I'm concerned, a prison record means absolutely nothing.
If a man is really willing to profit by his mistakes, he'll have every chance to make good.
Thank you, sir.
["The Star-Spangled Banner"]
Yes, Carl, you're back in your place, right where you were the day Arnold hired you fresh out of state prison.
And he hadn't thought of you since.
To Arnold, you were a piece of equipment, like a lawnmower or a washing machine,
not a human being who might want something else from the world, something with pride and dignity.
You hated him, didn't you, Carl, him and his righteousness.
And when Amy became interested in you, you wanted to scream in his face that if he didn't think you were somebody, his wife did.
["The Star-Spangled Banner"]
But that's all over now.
The evenings at the club Madrid with Amy are part of the past.
She's Mrs. Pearson again, and you're back in your place as chauffeur.
You're a little uneasy when Arnold called you into his study on the night of his return.
I don't know quite how to begin, Carl.
Something rather unpleasant has been called to my attention.
It's a first, however.
I think I ought to tell you that I have advised my lawyers about you, Carl.
But you'll never want for anything, even if something should happen to me.
Why, that's very kind of you, sir. I had no idea.
I'm happy to do it, Carl.
All I ask in return is your confidence about Mrs. Pearson.
Mrs. Pearson?
As you know, Carl, I'm quite well known.
Well, the fact of the matter is a chap from the FAM spoke to me about Mrs. Pearson this afternoon.
I'm fired she'd been seen on a number of occasions in the company of a strange man.
Oh, that's actually probably gossip, sir.
I hope it is just gossip.
Sort of upset me, that's all.
Coming home to a lot of ugly rumors about my wife and an orchestra leader.
An orchestra leader?
Yes. I believe he's working at the club Madrid.
That stopped you, didn't it, Carl?
There was only one reason for all those evenings with Amy at the club Madrid.
Terry Larkin, the orchestra leader.
You were stupid not to have seen it from the first.
You're raging inside as you walk downstairs to the library.
Amy is still there, curled up with a fireplace, with a book.
Well, Carl, what's the matter, darling?
I just talked to your husband.
Seemed there were rumors floating around.
Well, I didn't understand.
Baby blue eyes. Beautiful, innocent baby blue eyes.
Why, you cheap, heartless little tramp.
Kind of a hobby of yours, isn't it?
Making a fool out of every guy you meet.
I ought to do Terry Larkin a favor. I ought to go to him right now and give him the tip off.
Tell him how he's due to be tossed aside.
I'm not going anywhere, I understand.
And you're not going to do or say anything.
Because I can talk to you.
And because if I came right down to it, I'd sound a lot more convincing to Arnold, and the parole board, and everyone else.
Now if you don't mind, I'm going out for a drive.
Well, wait a minute. You know what Arnold said?
Give it!
When I want a chauffeur, I'll ring for one.
It's more than an ordinary hatred for Amy now, as it is for us.
It's a blind driving rage inside you, fighting for expression every minute of the time you're with her,
driving her to secret appointments with Terry, hearing her say the same things to him she used to say to you,
listening to her lie to Arnold about where she's been.
It's on your mind all the time, and you know that sometime, in some way, you're going to kill her.
It comes to you quite unexpectedly one afternoon while you're having the family car lubricated,
watching the attendant finish up.
Well, there she is, Carl.
Oh, by the way, keep an eye on that speedometer, huh?
According to our records, she ran over a little this time.
Oh, you mean you keep a record here?
Sure, on all our customers.
Miles record?
Only takes a minute to put it down, you know.
Comes in handy sometimes.
Yeah, sure, sure.
Thanks, Joe.
I'll keep an eye on the speedometer.
It's exactly five miles to the Pearson home from the station,
and as the little figures on the speedometer drop into place,
parts of a plan start falling into place in your mind,
and by the time you arrive at the house, you've decided to do it.
Arnold is alone in his study.
You hate to disturb him, but you think there's something he ought to know.
Carl, Carl, are you positive about this?
Absolutely certain?
Yes, I am.
I'm terribly sorry, sir.
I wouldn't have mentioned it, but you seemed so upset when you heard about it the other time.
Yes, I know, I know.
It's all right, Carl.
You're simply doing your duty.
Where is Mrs. Pearson now?
Well, I think she's in the drawing room.
Shall I tell you where she is?
No, never mind. I'll have Martha call in a minute.
Well, Martha took the afternoon off.
Went to a movie.
Oh, of course.
Well, would you tell Mrs. Pearson then?
Yes, sir.
Carl?
Yes, sir.
Thank you very much. You've been most loyal.
Oh, thank you, sir.
Well, Carl, it's underway now, and as you stand alone in the study and listen, you realize how right Amy was when she said Arnold would explode if he knew the truth about it.
You've never heard anything like this, Carl. It's more than you hoped for.
I don't care anymore. Do you understand that? I don't care.
And best of all, Carl, you aren't worried about what Amy might say about you.
What she says won't matter. It's what she does that concerns you now.
All that matters is that she behaves as you expect her to.
And she does.
Exactly.
The moment the quarrel is over, she rushes out of the house and hurries across the lawn to the garage for another wild ride.
You have the car all turned around, keys in the ignition, ready for it.
At the moment, she's sending the big car roaring down the driveway.
You're walking quietly into Arnold's study for the most important steps of all.
Oh, it's you, Carl.
Yes.
She left him a car, didn't she? I was hoping you wouldn't let her do that.
Mrs. Pearson does pretty much as she chooses.
Now, wait a minute, Carl.
Not only with you, Mr. Pearson, with me, too.
That's quite enough, Carl. You'll do well to let the matter drop right here. Forget all about it.
I'll attend to my affairs and my own. Carl, what are you doing with that poke?
Don't feel like such a big shot now, do you? And it brings you down the side.
Carl, wait a minute. Put it down, Carl. Carl, have you gone crazy?
Yes, Carl. He doesn't look so big or successful or patronizing now, does he?
And he didn't realize until too late that he made a fatal mistake when he put you in his will.
Now you'll not only get back at him, but what did Arnold say?
You'll never want for anything as long as you live.
You carefully wipe the fingerprints from the poker and lay it beside the body.
Then leave the study and hurry back to your little room over the garage.
Yes, Carl, Amy did just as you expected, and part of the gamble is won.
Now the whole plan hinges on time.
Quiet now. Nothing but the tick of the clock on your dresser as you sit there, waiting for Amy to return.
Five minutes. Ten. Twenty. A half hour and still no sound of the car.
Then you hear the squeal of tires. Amy clings into the driveway, and you know you've won.
She pulls the car into the garage. The door slams, and you hear Amy's quick footsteps, receding up the drive toward the house.
In a half minute, you're into the garage, and those swift, sure fingers of yours are setting the speedometer back to the mileage reading it showed
when you brought the car back from the service station this afternoon.
Yes, that's the heart of the plan, isn't it, Carl? You begin to add up now.
Those little black figures on the speedometer, plus the mileage record at the service station, will give the police one unmistakable deadly fact
that regardless of what Amy says about driving alone on the highway at the time of her husband's murder,
the speedometer will show that the car had not been taken from the garage.
More waiting now, Carl. And then Martha, coming around the corner from the bus stop, back from the matinee.
Brace yourself and wait.
Carl! Carl, open up! It's Martha!
Just a minute!
What's the matter?
Carl! Carl, I can't believe it! That awful, awful woman! She killed him!
What?
I knew it would happen sooner or later! That vicious temper of hers! Oh, she's a devil!
Where is she?
In his study on the floor. Mrs. Pearson's in her room. I don't think she heard me. She's packing, packing her things.
Carl, we've got to do something! I won't go back into that house. I'm afraid of her.
I should have warned him. I knew it would happen sooner or later.
Operator, give me the police.
It's working even better than you planned, isn't it, Carl?
Martha discovering Arnold, and best of all, Amy caught in the act of packing to go away.
She must have decided to do that during her wild drive.
Realized it was all over with Arnold, that this quarrel was the last one.
But who will believe that story, Carl? It's so fantastic you can hardly believe it yourself.
As the police car slides into the drive, the two of you run out to meet it, and you wisely decide to let Martha do most of the talking.
And she's still up there, Inspector, in her room, cold-bloodedly packing to go away.
I was there when I came in and found Mr. Pearson. Carl had come home just before I did.
Is that correct, Carl?
Oh, yes. I'd taken the car to be lubricated. Of course, as soon as Martha told me, I called headquarters.
So she's up there in her room, taking her time packing. Her husband's dead in the study.
That seem right to you, Carl?
Why, well, it does seem odd, Inspector, but I...
I'm sorry to get mildly. Well, Mike? Take four men and cover the exits of the house. Stay here yourself until the coroner arrives.
Right.
All right, come on, you two. Let's go up to the house.
There's a few questions I want to ask you, Mrs. Pearson.
All right, Inspector.
You've been a little foolish, don't you think?
I have a right to do as I please in my own house.
A rather interesting attitude at the moment.
I think you might explain what this is all about, why there are policemen all over the place.
I was about to ask you to do some explaining.
What? I haven't a thing to say.
I see.
Martha.
Yes, Inspector?
You say you were out of the house, had a movie all afternoon?
Yes, sir. I just got off the bus a half hour ago and walked up to the house. Then I ran out to Carl's room, over the garage.
All right, Martha. And you, Carl?
Well, I'd been having the car lubricated. Just got back a few minutes before Martha.
Then you went out with the car almost all afternoon?
That's right.
Carl, what did you say?
I said I was out with the car all afternoon. I had it, Grace, and brought it straight home.
Nothing wrong with that, is the Mrs. Pearson.
Well, I don't know what to...
Inspector, if there's any question, you can check the mileage on this predominant. They keep a record at the station.
That's a good idea. Well, Mrs. Pearson?
Well, of course. Yes, of course, Carl's telling the truth. He was out in the car. I've been here all afternoon.
Well, Carl, that stopped you, didn't it?
It wasn't necessary. All the careful planning, the manipulation of the spedometer to destroy her alibi, the mileage record, the contrived choir, all of it was useless.
And you stand there bewildered, waiting for the inspector to speak.
Well, Mrs. Pearson, I hardly expected it to be this simple. You understand, of course, that you're under arrest for suspicion of murder.
Murder? What are you talking about?
Your husband.
Arnold? What do you mean, murder?
He still went where you left him, Mrs. Pearson, on the floor of his study.
I don't know anything about him!
On your own admission, you and he were alone here in the house at the time of the killing.
Well, that's good enough for me. I think it'll be good enough for the jury.
Now, it finally worked, Carl, and you can let down a little now. It was hard to believe, of course, the way Amy tossed herself right into the trap.
You try to relax alone in your room, but deep inside there's a strange feeling that something's wrong, that it isn't over yet.
An hour later, you're startled by a knock at your door.
Just a minute.
Oh, hello, thank you.
Carl?
Where is she?
Down the headquarters. Carl, you're assured you were in that car this afternoon?
Look, I told you you could check with the service team.
We did get checked. You drove straight home. Past the corner of 89th and Parla, that's the usual route, isn't it?
Yeah, yeah.
Well, the license number checks, too. Only one thing. The witness wasn't sure, but he thought a woman was driving.
Oh, now listen, if you think Amy was out in that car, you're wrong. I ought to know. The station man backs me up just because some screwy witness thinks he saw her.
That's all I wanted to know. What made you think you could get away with it? Pretty serious, you know.
For that record of yours, you'll go up for the rest of your life in this state.
Look, what are you talking about?
Man's slaughter and hit and run. That man you ran down at 89th and Parla this afternoon died two hours ago.
Join us again next week when once again the United States Air Forces in Europe presents the wisdom.
This is Air Force Sergeant Don Cormay speaking.